Once upon a time when the stars were young, and the hope of a new dawn hadn't been stolen from the night your feet stumbled and fell from the inky skies so you lurched from one nightmare to another staggered with broken toes from one impossible dream and landed in the middle of another, limped from one flicker of light to the other as your breath came in short bursts and your song was sweet evanescence that floated away into that region of the cosmos which no human hands have ever touched.
Yours is the skin upon which the light falls, yours is the face which the sword slices yours is the blood that screams in unending silence yours is the soul which houses ten thousand virtues and equally ten thousand vices.
Yours is the bone which knows how and when it must break yours is the palm that knows what to take yours is the heart that has unshakeable bonds with the earth lived in the shadow yours is the voice that knows to unsheathe with words akin to a bow and arrow.
This is time the way we remember before she floated away from our soul the slow gentle creak of a clock in the distance as the howl of a wolf is heard near the grass where dreams lay a memory trapped in a silver shadow under the starshine straining to clamber out of the quicksand.
This is where my thoughts slow down and my reality becomes a blur, a story that I can read only under candlelight because the sun is far too bright your hands are quicksilver as they trace tears upon the lining of my weary face your voice the truth your words the lie as we crawl to the end of the race.
The song from your lip is a memory, a scream from the forgotten skies the fire on your breath is the scar tissue from a scorned sun; the starlight from a crashing meteor that is marked by life yet carries the scent of death.
The words that fall from your half opened mouth are switch blade knives that cut through the edges of my skin, a whisper that slices through my bone with the force of a sledgehammer.
The story you narrate as the starlight slips in through the blinds is inchoate, as indecisive as the thoughts that run like unchecked rainwater in your mind your face an uncut gem a treasure that I might forever seek but never find.
Sometimes they laugh because they do not see what is so beautiful about clinging on to candlelit dreams at the edges of your hair; they have not a prayer of comprehending the peace that floods into your skin like fresh air upon holding fireflies in your fingers.
Sometimes they laugh because they read the words scribbled but not the soft laughter that lies between them they will never have the simple pleasure of knowing what music does to your soul when your body has forgotten how to listen.
Sometimes they laugh because they think they know you because they have memorized every inch of your face, and every unsteady step of your feet but they never have and never will know the white hot flame of your shadow nor the red mist that is the cornerstone of your heart.
Far away, The afternoons are Infused with lemongrass And sun-kissed citrus, Freshly baked apple pies Wafts in the air, Somewhere, in the languid corners Of my mind, I'm a bubbly little girl Bathed in talcum powder And a drop of the lemon sun, Butterflies braid my hair With twigs of rosemary and thyme, Jars of cinnamon memories Line up the pantries and cupboards And the bathtub overflows With rosewater and naked dreams.
Sipping honeyed sunshine, I inhale nostalgia Distilled in ocean mist, Chilled Amazon rain and Atlantic air Softly caress my cheeks, Where are the butterflies that were dancing with the buttercup sun? I ask the honeysuckles, But the dandelions look at me with sad eyes And I knew it's time to say goodbye To wintergreen days Somewhere, in the languid corners Of my mind, I'm a little girl weeping in silence For all things gone, And the chamomile raindrops Could only comfort me Through the looking glass As I drown in peppermint sadness Lingering at the tip of my tongue.
In the drunk nights where I'm surrounded with vodka and pieces of my heart, I curl up to the left side of my bed (where you usually slept) and can still smell your cologne even though I've washed the bedsheet so many times. I guess I need to change it but I don't. This thought always comes to my mind during the day and changes during the night. So I end up not changing the bedsheets.
The whole day can pass by in conversations and listening to other people going through heartaches and helping them move on. But as night slowly starts to embrace me, I find out that I can help others move on because I know all too well how it feels to be stuck. You see, it's been months but I'm still used to you coming home and wrapping your arms around me. However after some time, I felt the distance too.
I knew our end was near. Maybe I've been hurting from the time when you were not that far away from me, physically. Maybe I felt the space that surrounded you and me. Maybe I felt how 'us' changed into 'you and me'. This spacing between the words and each letter, I felt it.
I missed you even though you were there. Things become worse, when I am the one who ended things and I'm the one who is, feeling the effects of it and unable to move on from simple things I loved about you, the small details. And I am the only one, because you obviously don't feel the breakup anymore.
I'm just another chapter to you, maybe the one not worth going back to, not the one worth reading, and I saw it all too clearly when someone among our common friends happened to bring up you and your new lover. And you had the same look. You know, the one you had when someone brought up me. I saw you blush at her name the way you blushed at mine.
I saw you see her the way you saw me. And that is when my heart completely broke.
It's even sad, because it's not just the drunk nights when I think about you now. It's the sober ones as well. And now in the conversations too, I feel you. While helping someone to mend their heart, I feel you. When someone comes and confesses to me about their secret crush, I feel you.
When someone talks about love, I feel you. And a part of me wishes you did too. I'm happy for you, honestly. But I feel sad for myself. For us.
Oh well, this is another drunk night I'm writing this. I guess I'll just stop because my ink is bleeding blue like my heart which aches and will probably keep aching. However, I wish to find what you found.
Till then, I'll keep wishing for something I lost.
I hope you are having a sound sleep with her, take care, keep her because I saw her look at you the way I look at your pictures now. Keep her. She'll keep you too. I genuinely pray for that. Goodnight.
Before you begin to write, understand- poetry is not about fancy words but rugged souls and raw feelings//
A poem begins with an awkward chuckle as restless hands shift the pen to and fro in their palms while eyes search for a reason in the darkness surrounding them; but once the ears adjust to the roars and throbs of the ocean waves and east winds, those eyes will rest upon a butterfly sitting by the field of peonies and the poem will settle on your skin naked and vulnerable with metaphors engraved within and a few veiled meanings hidden beneath the blues
A poem loses itself halfway down the page into a spiral, just like this one and when it'll be hard to spot it's purpose it will try to merge with the shades of someone else's art trying to disappear like a chameleon for cowardice lies in all of us so hold onto it and paint it with something of your own; a poem is not always clear skies, sometimes it is the myriad of colours in a sunset or all the greys in a storm but most of all, the poem is you
A poem never ends, it is simply left unheard but it is always there, waiting to be written again another evening when the hearts are in pain and art needs a rebirth without a death of it's own.
This is a rant which I wrote a few days ago on the night when I found out people in my family and my neighbours being Corona positive. I felt so scared and disappointed and the feeling of "ah shit, here we go again" came. So I decided to write. For it was the only sane thing, as I've mentioned in the piece as well, around me.
Also, for people who knew I'm gone, I'm back!
@writersnetwork just letting you know. Will read everyone soon, I promise. I love you guys.